


The Abyss

by imaginationstarie13



Category: Claymore
Genre: AU, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, POV Second Person, Raki as a Claymore, Raki is born during the male generation, lots of awakenings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-16
Updated: 2017-04-21
Packaged: 2018-09-24 20:23:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 23,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9784835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imaginationstarie13/pseuds/imaginationstarie13
Summary: When you next meet Isley, he puts a hand on your shoulder and offers you a smile."Holy Sword Raki. I like it."(It started when a monster that looked like your brother killed your parents. The townspeople called you a bad omen, and the Organization took you in, cut you up, and left you with silver eyes. It never ends, not even when you awaken.)





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This is part of my NaNoWriMo 2016 project, although I've only recently gotten around to editing it. It came from the idea of "What happened if Raki was born during the beginnings of the Organization's male generation?"
> 
> Enjoy!

You are shaking. Nothing is clear. All you know is that your parents are dead and that they are only two people in a growing list of the dead. The town calls the human-eating monster a “Yoma.” They call you a bad omen.

A man with blond hair and silver eyes arrives sometime after your parents are killed. He is not a knight, at least not like the ones you have seen in books. His armor is different than any you have ever seen and his sword is twice the size of the ones the blacksmith makes. But it is the way that the man moves that tells you he is not like the other knights. He's constantly looking, constantly moving, going at such speed that you are never sure if you are dreaming or not.

According to the gossip, he is a new type of warrior. A warrior that is part-Yoma. Part-monster.

The warrior slays the Yoma, the monster that is masquerading as your brother, in two swings of his sword. The warrior does it without any emotion in his face. It is as if he is killing an insect. It is as if it is normal to him.

It is not normal for a boy as young as you are to lose his whole family in such a way.

The warrior sits at the edge of your bed as you cry yourself to sleep that night. He says nothing, but his presence is enough to keep you from throwing yourself to the floor. When morning comes, there is no trace of him in the house. There is not even missing food.

Maybe he knows that you are a bad omen. Maybe he wishes that you were dead too.

You have to live in the house alone for days. It's now the house where your parents were killed and a monster once lived. It's a house stained with blood and death and everyone knows that it won’t go away. The air follows you around. You are the boy whose brother was a monster, after all.

When the man wearing black asks to take you along with the village’s payment, you almost cry in relief.

* * *

The cut down the front of your body does not heal. At night, when you are supposed to be asleep, you stare at the stitches. The other boys think you are odd. You become the outcast. But no one calls you a bad omen, so you accept this new life.

You have gained speed and strength that you never could have imagined. It should have been impossible. The way that any of you, boys barely on the edge of adulthood, exist in such a state should be impossible. But it is your reality. Every day you are testing it, trying to find its limits. Every day, you are one step closer to slaying monsters who look like people you had loved.

But every night you think about the wound that goes through your chest, held together by a thread.

The Organization teaches you swordplay. The swords they provide are large and it takes you some time to figure out how to carry it without tipping yourself over. The other boys play around with the practice weaponry all the time. The handlers and teachers scold them over and over, but the boys laugh. They will become the new silver-eyed warriors to rid the land of monsters. They will become heroes.

You don't say anything like the others. It would be nice, you think, to become a hero. But then you just look at the hole in the front of your body and wonder if there will ever be a day that it will disappear.

* * *

You lose track of time. Life within the Organization's walls is now your only life. The memories of your life before the hole, before having silver eyes, feel like someone else's.

And then you meet the warrior that killed the monster that looked like your brother.

You feel his presence before you even see him. His Yoki is calm and boundless, so different from the other boys training with you. You trace it as he walks into the building and straight towards the training grounds. He stops by several of the other men and speaks to them. But even when he talks to the handlers, his eyes are following you. You stare right back. You wonder if he wishes that you were dead.

The handler calls you to them. You walk over obediently and in the back of your mind you wonder if this man's cut, held together by thread, is gone.

The warrior brings you outside to the deserted cliffs. He looks at you, then at the landscape. It is as it always has been; barren as far as the eye can see. He asks, "No one could take you in afterwards?"

The question startles you. The words tumble out of your mouth and into each other before you can even comprehend what you are doing.

The warrior chuckles. "Breathe."

You do. You try to start again. "I... My relatives, they... they all...” You breathe again. “I'm a bad omen."

"A bad omen?" the warrior repeats. "That's... odd. Humans can be such odd creatures. We warriors give up our humanity to try and save them from Yoma. We are the only ones to take on this burden. And yet they cast us out as if we are the demons."

You stare, silent. Any words that were left in your heart have disappeared.

"I suppose such is the way of the world," the warrior concludes. He shakes his head and looks back at you. "I don't think you are a bad omen."

"But... But..." Your eyes instantly turn down, and you wonder if the scar is visible through the uniform.

The warrior smiles. "It's just a sign you will carry. You are meant for something different. I have it too. We all have it."

"Really?" There must be some disappointment hidden in the shock of your voice, because the warrior's smile grows softer.

"Really." In a fluid motion, he rips his uniform down the middle. Sure enough, there is a scar identical to yours running through the center of his body. "It will likely stay with you until the day you die. But it is a good sign. A sign of strength."

In that moment, you believe him.

The warrior fixes his uniform as best as he can. The scar is still visible, still there cutting through his body. "What's your name?"

"I'm Raki," you say.

"A pleasure to meet you, Raki. My name is Isley."

* * *

Isley starts to visit the Organization more often. When he does, he always spends his time giving you extra training. He shows you how to swing a sword, how to use it beyond what the handlers are teaching you, how to survive. It is grueling but you never once complain. You need to learn because you are going to be a warrior just like Isley. There is no time to complain.

The final test falls upon you all so fast. Out of the group of thirty boys, only five of you notice the presence of Yoma. Only three of you pass.

Isley is there when the Organization gives you a mark and a number. You, in turn, have already memorized Isley's symbol and his history. A warrior who single handedly took down twenty Yoma. A warrior who shows more power that the others, with the only distortion to his body is his eyes turning yellow. The only warrior to be Number 1.

You get the Number 25 and are sent towards the center of the continent. Isley has been reassigned to the northern region; the Yoma there have been getting restless.

"We will meet again," Isley says. "I expect you to be stronger."

"Of course!" you promise. It is a simple promise to keep; you were already planning to do just that.

* * *

Some months later, when you are Number 21, a Yoma runs towards the Holy City. It runs out of fear and hunger, and you know that even with its delusions it would kill several people. You take your blade out and remove the Yoma’s head before it can sully the city's steps. The relief that fills your body is calming. Relaxing, almost.

One of the priests standing by the gate sees you and flees into the city. It takes you a moment to remember that you are an abomination to Rabona's inhabitants. You are as much of a monster to them as the Yoma are.

You turn and walk away without another thought. It is the way of the life you have. It is how it will always be. You will never enter the Holy City of Rabona. You will never live among men again.

"Hey!"

You stop, and watch as one of Rabona's famous knights runs towards you. You can't help but stare. Such a thing has never happened before. Humans always run _away_ from you.

The man is out of breath by the time he reaches you, but he still offers a smile.

"Thank you," the man says when he catches his breath. His eyes trail back to the gate over and over. You wonder if the weight of thanking you was really worth him leaving his post. But he continues before you even think about asking. "We... I don't know what we would have done. My sister told me about one of them, and honestly... I'm not sure if we would be standing."

You look at the walls of Rabona. You remember when you were a human, when your nights were filled with stories of the Holy City. How the soldiers there are brave and self-sacrificing. How the god of Rabona looks over the holy land and blesses the righteous within the walls. How much you had wanted to visit the city, even once.

"It’s fine," you say. "I'm glad I could help."

"I know we cannot pay you but..." The soldier unstraps a sword from his back. "Here. A token of thanks."

You take the sword. It is smaller than your claymore, and the metal shines differently in the light. The hilt is carved with an image of the god of Rabona. It is weightless and almost laughable.

It feels like the weight of the world is contained in it.

You accept with a smile. "This is a wonderful sword. Thank you."

The soldier smiles back and says his farewells before returning to the city. You watch the human's retreating figure. Something in you feels warm, and you almost laugh at yourself. Isley would have laughed at you if he were there.

You sheath the sword against your claymore and walk in the other direction.

That night, you use the smaller sword for the practice exercises that Isley taught you. It doesn't cut wood as well as the claymore, requiring even more strength just to get through the material. But it is light and moves in the precise way you want it to as you conduct your exercises. Sometimes, it even seems to glow in the firelight.

You smile to yourself and sheath the blade. Not a useless souvenir, you think. A fine sword.

In the next few months, you are awarded the Numbers 18, 16, and then 13. You also receive a moniker. You don't hear about it until all of the other warriors start calling you by the name. It is odd, but you don't think much about names during those months.

When you next meet Isley, he puts a hand on your shoulder and offers you a smile.

"Holy Sword Raki. I like it."

You laugh. It is not as grand as Isley's new title, but then again you don't think you could stand being called "The Silver King of the North."

The older warrior draws his claymore and points it at you. "I would like to spar against this 'Holy Sword Raki.' It's important to see how far you've progressed without me."

You draw your sword and nod. You make the first strike, and soon the two of you are moving at speeds you once considered impossible.

Isley focuses on the sword as you fight. You wonder what he sees in your movements that you have not seen yourself. You have obtained a new level of speed and precision with that sword. Your movements have gotten smoother. You, on the whole, are a step closer towards becoming the level of warrior that Isley is.

Isley still beats you, but it is not the same crushing defeat as it had been during your trainee days. The other warrior's face is glowing even as you fall.

"It's a well-crafted sword," he says later that night, examining the blade against the firelight. "I used to dream of swords like this when I was a human."

You remain silent, hoping for more. Isley rarely mentions his time before becoming a warrior. When he does it is always a fleeting comment, an almost worthless scrap that is impossible to build from. It makes you wonder if he was ever a human.

But once again, Isley changes the subject. "How far have you released your Yoki, Raki?"

"Thirty percent," you answer. You remember the feeling, the rush of power. It had taken you at least an hour to calm yourself. "It didn’t feel... right."

"Interesting." He hands you back the sword and looks into the sky. "I've spoken to Chronos recently. He says he has gone over fifty."

"Fifty?" The number sounds heavy. Wrong. "We've been told not to release a lot. The Organization –”

"The Organization has been revising their policy," Isley says. "Supposedly the head researcher has found out that our safe limits are higher than first predicted."

You remember the rush of power. It was tantalizing. Calling you to release more and more.

"It still seems dangerous," you say. "No one knows what happens when you release it all."

"I am glad that we agree on that," Isley says. "Chronos has described it as a joy to release so much Yoki. As always, he doesn't seem to be thinking much about the impact he will have."

"It did feel good," you admit. "But... I don't know why, but it felt like I would destroy the world if I just released it all."

"Troubling, to say the least." Isley turns back to the fire. A frown is carved into his face. "I suggest you do not release so much Yoki unless you find it absolutely necessary. I do not care for what the Organization has to say on the matter. I don't think they fully understand the extent of what they have done."

"Right," you agree.

That night, you dream about the wound that slices through your chest. The thread is gone, and your organs spill out no matter what you do.

* * *

You are Number 7 when things change. The rumors get to you first before the man in black can tell you.

Something... happened.

Number 5, Evan, had gone to a village to stop one Yoma. In a day's time, the village was destroyed.

You try to ignore the rumor at first. What could have the strength to level a village in a day? A group of warriors could not do that so fast. A single Yoma was even more laughable. You even say so to your handler when he delivers the news. It's an impossible task.

It is only when Isley comes down from the north that you start to believe that something has gone wrong.

"I will explain when I come back," Isley promises. "Until then, do not release a single bit of your Yoki. No matter the circumstances."

You agree, and Isley is gone before you can say another word.

It is a week and three requests later before Isley returns. By then you are worrying. You know a group of six warriors have gone towards the destroyed village. What could need six warriors and take so long to complete? What could need the Number 1 of the Organization to be accompanied by other warriors?

When Isley returns, his first words spill out so fast that he sounds like a trainee. "Evan became a monster."

You stare, the shock paralyzing you. Isley doesn't call warriors "monsters." He said that warriors may be filled with Yoma guts, but were fundamentally different than the things that they slay. Warriors have some humanity left. Yoma do not.

"Evan released all of his power. They called it an 'awakening.' His body had... transformed. He didn't even look like a Yoma. He had grown to be as tall as a house, and his hands became pointed blades." Isley lets loose a sad chuckle. "He couldn't even pick up a sword anymore."

"Was he okay?" you ask. You have never met Evan, but an injury to any warrior always sits in your heart.

"You misunderstand me,” Isley says. “I said that he didn't look like a Yoma. That does not mean that he did not become one."

"He... What?"

"We found him eating the guts of people in the town closest to the one he destroyed. And even in that first town..." Isley closes his eyes. "The corpses of the devoured were everywhere."

You sit down. There is a sudden pain in your chest.

"We... We gave up our humanity to stop Yoma," you say. "Not to become them."

"I know. However, there is not much else we can do." Isley shakes his head. His fists tremble, and he pounds them against his legs as if it would stop the tremors. "It is impossible for a human to detect a Yoma in hiding. And most humans are incapable of fighting a Yoma if they find one. Sticking Yoma guts and blood into our bodies is the only way to fight them."

"But that village. They say it was destroyed in a night!"

"But if we do not take this risk with our bodies, this continent will be overrun with Yoma." Isley sits down next to you, flexing his hands. "These bodies of ours are double-edged blades. We can save humans from Yoma. But if we are not careful, we could destroy them ourselves."

The two of you sit in silence. Every idea that comes to you is instantly shot down in your head. Isley, as always, is right. There is no other way.

You are given the Number 5 soon after. You almost throw up at the news.

* * *

In a month, another fifteen warriors awaken. In the next two months, many more follow. The news of each hurts you more and more.

Every time the news comes, Isley contacts you. Sometimes it is a message through the handlers. Sometimes he comes to see you himself. Each time, you can hear the desperate tone in his voice, whether it be his own or someone carrying his message. As your teacher, he feels responsible for you. As Number 1, he feels responsible for everyone.

Eventually, Isley sends a message to the remaining warriors to meet near Rabona. When you get there, there are only three.

"What about Chronos and Lars?" you ask. "I thought –”

"They've awakened last week," Rigaldo, Number 2, says. The two of you have never gotten along, an extension of his rivalry with Isley. However, his voice carries a gentle quality as he speaks to you. Your emotions, apparently, are still easily visible.

You recoil. "No."

"It was inevitable, Raki," Isley says. "Chronos and Lars both enjoy releasing their Yoki. They were never ones to temper their own desires."

You had seen Chronos two weeks ago. The two of you had sparred and Chronos had a cocky grin when you fell. You didn't say anything back as you were preoccupied trying to calm your own Yoki. With a sinking feeling, you realize you never once paid attention to how much power the other warrior had released.

The third warrior, Dauf, seems unaffected by the news. "We can just slay them?"

Rigaldo's cold demeanor returns as Isley answers the question. "It takes about four warriors to efficiently go after any of these Awakened Beings. And that is for an average one. Evan required six."

You shudder at the name. You still wear Evan's Number, having never fought the warrior to prove you deserve it.

"You are making it more complicated than it should be," Rigaldo says, turning to Isley. "You refused to release more than ten percent of your power when fighting Evan. If you had released just a bit more, we would have been able to –”

"I will not risk becoming what the others have become," Isley says. "I gave up my humanity to fight monsters. Not to become one."

"Hmph. Draw your sword, 'Silver King of the North.'" Rigaldo is already moving towards the clearing, his claymore out. "I cannot believe that the best warrior refuses to actually fight."

Panic rises in you. "I thought –”

Isley, however, ignores you and draws his own claymore. "It would do you well to learn some patience."

"If I win, I want you to follow my commands," Rigaldo says. "Then we wouldn’t have to worry about these Awakened Beings."

"If you will do the same when I win."

Isley's Yoki ripples, almost unnoticeable against Rigaldo's. It is the only time you have ever seen a sign of Isley's anger.

"We're supposed to be figuring out how to solve this problem," you mutter.

Dauf, as always, remains oblivious.

The two of you remain by the sidelines. You want to stop them, but the difference between your strength and theirs is an abyss. The only thing you have are your words, and even Isley seems intent on ignoring you in order to fight Rigaldo. There is something to be said, you think, about how the Organization does not encourage friendship.

As the fight draws on, a new Yoki appears before your senses. It's not that of a Yoma’s, and for a moment you worry that this is one of the Awakened Beings you have yet to see. Before you think it through, you draw your holy sword and run to the area.

You were not expecting a girl with blonde hair and silver eyes.

"A warrior?" you ask. The only warriors that you know of are male and are older than this... this _child_. But you cannot say that her powers are inconsiderable; you can sense the underlying strength contained in her.

"Oh, are you one of the remaining male warriors?" the girl asks. She looks at you with curiosity in her silver eyes.

"Are they switching to females?" It is almost unheard of; a female knight. A female warrior.

The girl just smiles. "They said we are better at controlling our energy than males. The two fighting over there are not exactly proving anyone wrong."

You ignore the quip. "Who are you?"

"Riful. Number 7."

One of your old numbers. You almost smile at the thought. "I'm Raki. Number 5."

"Holy Sword Raki? It's a pleasure to meet the older generation."

The two of you begin walking back towards the clearing. You can still feel the anger as clear as ever, but you try to ignore it. You can only hope Isley and Rigaldo do not to lose themselves in their fight. If anything, their pride will stop them. So you instead focus your attention on the new warrior and the curiosity that she represents.

"Are there other female warriors?" you ask. As far as you have heard, the only warriors have been male. Your handler may know more, but it is hard to trust the man in black sometimes.

"There are ten of us right now. But they've been training more."

Ten female warriors who do not awaken as easily as male warriors. It is a large idea to wrap your head around.

By the time you and Riful arrive to the clearing, Rigaldo is out of breath. His Yoki seems to encase the field. Isley is also breathing hard, and you can see the struggle in his mind whether to release any of his own Yoki.

"You'll cause more trouble this way than help," Riful calls out to them, half in amusement and half in annoyance.

Isley and Rigaldo both stop, staring at Riful. Isley opens his mouth to say something, but no words come out. He sheathes his sword. You can see annoyance reflecting in his eyes.

Dauf, of course, is the first to speak. "Who are you?"

"Riful. Number 7." She looks at Dauf, and quickly holds her nose. "You stink. How can anyone stand to be near you?"

Dauf looks down at his own body, sniffing. You have to stifle your laughter.

"A female warrior?" Rigaldo asks. "This is an insult." Before you can say anything, he walks away without so much of a glance at you.

Isley's frown is more pronounced. "Does the Organization think that having more warriors around will fix this problem? The continent will be overrun with new Awakened Beings in weeks."

Riful smiles. It is not a kind smile, however. "The Organization thinks that having female warriors who do not awaken as easily as the male warriors can help fix your problem."

" _My_ problem?" Isley turns away, and you can feel his anger rippling through him once again. "I see that the Organization has already taken up a solution. There is nothing more that I need to do."

"Isley!"

Your call does nothing; the warrior is walking away, towards the north where he is still assigned. His emotions, his anger, trail behind him.

"Uh, it was nice to meet you!" you tell Riful. You run after Isley before she can respond.

Isley is furious. He does well not to release his Yoki the way that Rigaldo has, but that does not make it any easier to be in his presence. You remain silent as you walk besides him. You know you cannot force an answer out. Isley doesn’t work like that.

"Female warriors," Isley mutters after some time has passed. "What is the Organization thinking?"

"Is it possible?" you ask. "That female warriors do not awaken as easily as male warriors?"

"That is certainly what the Organization wants us to believe." Isley looks back at the field. There is a small smile appearing on his lips, but you know it is not sincere. "Whether it holds true or not... We shall see."

* * *

Another month goes by. There are more female warriors, and from the stories that you hear only one of them awakens. You are not sure if that constitutes as being impressive or not.

Out of the remaining male warriors, Dauf is the next to awaken. Like Chronos and Lars, Dauf’s awakening is expected. This fact does not make it any less painful.

In the next month, you are paired with Rigaldo to hunt down an Awakened Being. A former Number 39. A former comrade.

"He was extremely weak as a warrior. This should be simple," Rigaldo says when the handler tells you of the assignment.

You remember Number 39, a boy in your training group. He was like the other boys, dreaming of saving the town that sold him to the Organization. Dreaming of being a hero.

You turn to the handler. "Aren't there supposed to be more warriors? Even for a weak Awakened Being..."

"Isley is coming from the north," the handler says. "But this request cannot be held off any longer."

Rigaldo's Yoki flares at the name. "We do not need him. We can take the Awakened Being on by ourselves. _I_ can take it on by myself."

"Wait, Rigaldo –”

But the warrior is already off, a blur that moves towards the afflicted town. You stumble trying to catch up to the Number 2 of the Organization. Despite all of your training, the gap between your strength and his feels enormous.

When you reach the town, Rigaldo is already fighting the monster. The creature doesn't look at all like what the warrior once did. The movements are erratic, hungry. You cannot find a trace of humanity in the former Number 39. It will make it easier, you think, to kill him.

You draw your claymore, looking for a weak spot. The beast is armored, and you have to wonder just how much of your energy you will need to pierce through.

That's when Rigaldo's Yoki engulfs the area. It's rising rapidly and you can just count all of the warning signs that he goes pass. In an instant, you realize that he has to be past seventy percent and still going.

"Rigaldo!"

The other warrior takes no notice of you. You catch a glimpse of him, as he stares into the eyes of the Awakened Being. His claymore is on the ground. His features are filled with pure rage.

He passes his limits. The resultant energy sends you flying.

You lose consciousness for a brief moment as you are launched against a building. When you regain your senses, the former Number 39 is lying in pieces in the streets. Rigaldo, or the monster that was once Rigaldo, stands in the center of the street. Unlike the other Awakened Beings you have seen, Rigaldo retains much of a humanoid form. But his head has changed. It reminds you of pictures you have seen in old storybooks, ones likely still in the tainted house you once called home.

A beast, you think. A monster.

When you hear the screams of the townspeople, you draw your holy sword and run out. You do not have the power to kill a former Number 2. But surely, surely you have enough power to hold him off and give people a chance to escape.

You try to attack first, but your sword strikes dirt. The speed that Rigaldo has gained by awakening is incomparable. You don’t even see him move when he slams against you, sending you flying once again. Suddenly you feel like the human you once were, watching some other creature obtain speeds you thought were impossible.

Rigaldo attacks at full force before you can even blink. You cough, blood spilling from your lips. You swing your sword wildly. You hope, wish, pray that you will land a hit. But nothing that you do can touch the Awakened Being. Instead you are being battered like a rag doll, as if you were not even a challenge.

You wonder if death will be fast enough to prevent you from awakening yourself.

More injuries, more blood.

"Raki!"

You move at the sound of your name, but then Rigaldo slashes you with his claws. You lose consciousness, and expect nothing more.

* * *

The pain you feel when you open your eyes makes you cry out. You can't remember ever feeling so useless, so debilitated.

"Raki?"

You turn your head. Isley hovers over you, a look of worry overtaking his features. Behind him you can see walls and a ceiling. A house. A house probably in the middle of nowhere where humans cannot judge.

"I'm fine," you mutter.

"You are _not_ fine." Isley gives a pointed look at your torso. You follow his gaze, observing all of the bandages that obscure the original cut that has never left.

The memories come back at once. "The town! Rigaldo!" You try to sit up, only to fall back to the bed when your body cannot support you.

"There is nothing you could have done," Isley says. "It took everything that I had just to get you out of there."

Processing the words make your apparent headache get worse. "Then... The town is gone, isn't it?"

"Yes," Isley says. He moves away from the bed. "Rigaldo destroyed it."

"I..." You close your eyes. "I could have stopped him."

"Fighting an Awakened Being is hard, and a former single-digit –”

"No. Rigaldo had gone ahead. If I was faster... If I had noticed..."

"Rigaldo is responsible for his own actions. He knew his own limits."

"But –”

"Rest, Raki." Isley returns by your side, holding out a tray of food. "If you can manage, you should eat. Regain your strength."

You move your arm, and try to keep the hisses of pain from coming out of your mouth. "Sorry. I think I need more sleep," you say.

"Then get some." He offers you a smile, but it isn't hard to find the pain underlying it. "Heal up, Raki."

You close your eyes, and let the darkness claim you. The nightmares come just as easily.

* * *

Isley cares for you during the week you heal. You cannot remember ever taking so long to heal your body. Then again, you cannot remember when you were so close to death.

"Is the Organization going to send warriors after him?" you ask one night. You cannot get the village out of your head. The rubble. The remains of the former Number 39 in pieces as the beast Rigaldo has become roars above. How you could not even see Rigaldo _move_ before falling.

"No. They are still building up their forces of female warriors. It will take time. And to track down every Awakened Being on the continent..." Isley frowns, staring at the fire he built. "There is talk about waiting for requests to come in. They want to treat this whole matter as if they are just some new type of Yoma."

"But... But the humans! Surely –”

"Someone has come up with a name. 'Voracious Eaters.' It’s something that we can call the Awakened Beings without telling them the truth."

The anger swells within you. "We are supposed to protect them. If they do not know –”

"Leave it, Raki." Isley stands, placing a stern hand on your shoulder. "If they remain hiding in the environments, they will likely cause little trouble."

You force yourself to remain silent. You want to argue, to remind Isley that this is wrong. But the sadness on Isley's features tells you that silence may be what the other warrior needs.

The next night, you speak again.

"I wish there was something more that we can do," you say.

Isley gives a sad smile. "What _can_ we do? We have done everything that we can, and yet it is not enough."

"I don't know. But..." You look towards the sky. "When I was younger, my mother used to tell me that the stars are the souls of those who've died."

"A child's fairy tale."

"I know. But... It always made me feel better," you admit. "To think that souls move on to a better place when passing. That they were watching over us.

"But awakening doesn't let a warrior die. It keeps him here. And it makes him a monster that he never wanted to be." You can feel the tears starting to run from your silver eyes. You use you sleeve to wipe them away. "Sorry. I must sound like an idiot."

"Only a warm-hearted fool," Isley teases. He passes you some fruit. "It makes you a good person, Raki. Don't ever forget that."

You eat, Isley's words sitting at the bottom of your stomach.

"You're a good person too," you say after some time has passed. "You've given me everything."

"Everything?" Isley says. "I did no such thing."

"I hated myself when I was at the Organization. But you gave me a purpose. And you trained me." You look towards your sword, leaning against the doorway. "Now I'm Number 5. I wouldn't have gotten this far without you."

Isley falls silent. When you look towards him, he gives you a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes.

"You have given me hope, Raki," he says. "And for that, I must be the one to thank you."

You remember Isley's words, even when he strikes you down days later. When he leaves, you force yourself to stand and follow him. Isley is fast, but you manage to grab your sword and follow him as he approaches an Awakened Being. You yourself have no strength to fight alongside him, but you stay and watch.

It takes you too long to realize what Isley's plan is.

It comes as a rush. Isley releases all of his Yoki at once, and you brace yourself for any knockback. When the dust clears, you can only stare. His form is massive, and the Yoma energy contained in it even more so. He looks like a creature from a fairy tale, half-horse and half-human. His arms have become weapons. It is perhaps the only confirmation you will ever get that Isley was a fighter even before becoming half-Yoma. The cut that went through his torso, the sign that he was a warrior, is gone.

Part of you holds out hope. Surely Isley, the Number 1 of the male warriors, can retain some shred of humanity. Surely he wouldn't become a monster like the others.

When Isley kills the Awakened Being and turns his sights on you, you have no choice but to fight.

* * *

Once again you wake to intense pain. But the memories come to you faster, and all you can do is cry.

* * *

Riful appears sometime after you have cried yourself back to sleep. You find her sitting next to your bed when you wake for the second time.

"Isley was a fool," she says. Her words are soft, but you know enough about her to know there is loathing in her voice.

"Yeah," you agree. "I know."

She hands you some food, and you accept. She talks throughout.

"No one maintains their humanity when awakening. He should know this," she says. "What did he think he would accomplish? And now he's become one of them. Even if he slays more Awakened Beings, he will cause more trouble than help. Who would be able to kill him?"

You try not to dwell on the question.

"Where did he go?" you ask.

"The north," Riful says. "The Silver King of the North, even in his current state. It's probably better this way."

"Better? How can _this_ be better?"

The look that Riful gives you is one part scathing, one part sympathetic. "He has enough power to conquer this continent if he so chooses. As long as he has the desire not to, we will survive."

You want to tell her you don't want to survive, that you never once considered a life without Isley, but you hold your tongue.

There is a knock at the door. As Riful goes to answer, you try and list your injuries. Everything aches. Your leg was almost cut clean off. The injury there is still healing, trying to reassemble you. Your arms sting; you can feel the muscle still regenerating in your sword arm. The hole in your torso, the one that has never healed, has new thread holding it together.

Riful clears her throat, and you turn to see your handler. The man in black remains as stoic as always. You can't help but be jealous; how could someone look so unaffected by all of these events?

"Number 5. You are to retire."

You stare. "What?"

"You have enough power to rival the former Number 2 –”

The protest instantly forms on your tongue. "Rigaldo? But he was stronger than me – faster than –”

"Rigaldo's speed was his strongest asset. In every other way, your powers were growing enough to rival his," Riful says.

"We are already having difficulty in dealing with Isley awakening. We do not need his protégé to follow suit," the handler continues. "As such, you are to retire from being an active warrior."

"What am I supposed to do?" you ask. Such a thing has never happened before.

"Suppress your energy. As long as you do not interfere with the Organization, you will be left alone." The handler turns to leave. His message, apparently, is final. "You've done well otherwise. Think of this as Isley's last wish."

You remember Isley's blade cutting through you, leaving wounds shallow enough to ignore at the time. You wonder what happened to his sword.

"What am I going to do?" you ask Riful. "No town would accept a warrior to live with them."

She scoffs. "Then live elsewhere. It really isn't that hard to figure out."

"And do what? My whole purpose was to kill Yoma. I'm useless now."

"Hmph. No one said you had to stop completely. They left you with your swords, haven't they? Get stronger, if you really cannot think of anything else." Riful crosses her arms. "Are you really that stupid?"

You ignore her question. "I... I would rather have fought and died with Isley. I just... He saved me. I didn't want to leave him."

"He left you. Maybe he knew that you would have followed him otherwise," Riful says.

You mull on her words as she gathers her own armor and claymore.

"I've spent too much time here. I have an assignment," she says.

"Riful?"

She gives you a scathing look. "What is it now?"

"If you are asked to kill..." It's a struggle to say the words. "...kill Isley, come find me."

"Oh. Is that what you're going to do?" You can hear her sigh of annoyance from across the room. "Fine. But don't you dare awaken. I will kill you myself if you do."

The laugh escapes you before you can stop it. It has been a long time since you have laughed.

* * *

You find a valley hidden by mountains on all sides. You build yourself a little house, bare of anything but the essentials. You store your armor away and manage to barter for some clothes from a passing merchant. You feel alone, but you try your hardest to forget the feeling.

Every day, you train.

You continue practicing with your swords, both the claymore and the holy sword. Riful had said that you were going to rival Rigaldo one day. Maybe, if you practice hard enough, you can rival his Awakened form.

There are some fleeting memories of Isley's form embedded in your head. You remember wondering if it was some proof that Isley was a weapons master before becoming a silver-eyed warrior. So the next time you need to slip into a town, you obtain a shield and lance. The time after that, a spear and a bow. And after that, an axe and mace.

It takes you a long time to master each one. In most cases, you have to sneak into towns and watch the knights there. You burn the memories of their stances, their movements, everything that you can, into your head. Once a year you travel to Rabona and wait outside the city. The knights there take their trainees outside the city gates to practice. You can sit there for a whole week, only watching. Sometimes you imagine that you see the knight who gave you the sword. Then you remember that humans can die from old age, while warriors are either killed or awaken. You pray for his soul instead.

When you return to your little house in the mountains, you practice what you see.

Rumors also come your way from time to time. Soon there are enough silver-eyed female warriors that the townspeople refer to them as witches. They are less likely to awaken, and you sometimes hear stories of black cards and ending friends' lives. It's a better system now, you think.

It is not flawless, however. You hear that Riful, the girl having become the Number 1 of the female generation, awakens. The two of you may not have been friends, but her words gave you hope after Isley awakened. She would have been annoyed with herself for creating such a problem that had no solution.

Her promise to slay you if you were to become a monster is no longer valid. You start keeping your Yoki to yourself, hidden from the rest of the world.

Years and years later, you hear of Luciela the Failed Experiment. The latest Number 1 to awaken into a monster. That one sits heavy in your heart; you hear plenty of rumors about the Organization and their new phase of research. A new line of warriors to combat the Yoma and Awakened Beings, which so far has only produced a new Abyssal One.

No matter the news, you stay in the mountains and train. You cannot save everyone. But there will be one day, you think. One day you will save Isley.


	2. Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She turns and stares at the girl as if there is nothing else in the world that matters. Perhaps, to this woman, the girl _is_ the only thing that matters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... this is the part where I realize that there is one other major tag that should probably be listed. But I'm one of those people who believes in surprises. Therefore... I am a terrible person.

Despite the passing of time, you cannot escape all of the demons from your human life.

There are days when you wake up and think that you are a bad omen. It has been a very long time since you were called that, but sometimes voices fill your head and never leave. Sometimes they are whispers. Sometimes they are the townspeople, who all must be dead by now, gossiping around you. Sometimes they become a singular faceless voice. Sometimes it is Isley, and even though he has never said those words, you spend those days lying in bed cursing yourself.

You are not the only bad omen in the world, however.

On one of those days where Isley’s voice fills your head, at the edge of the valley, there is the presence of Yoki slipping from warrior to Awakened Being. It is weak, but you of all people remember that potential power never is that simple.

You force yourself out of the bed and take up your holy sword, still sharp and shining despite its age. It gleams in the sunlight as you run to the source of Yoki. You do not know this warrior, and you wish you could do something more for her. But there is nothing you can do besides provide her comfort that no one else is available to do. It will have to be enough.

You only question your motives when you see the warrior in question.

She’s at the very edge of the valley, where the mountain begins to mark its borders. She’s on her hands and knees, and you can see the telltale signs of weariness self-inflicted onto her body. Her long hair obscures her face from your eyes. Her breathing, heavy and ragged, becomes the only thing you can hear. There is no symbol on her uniform. She is so small, so _young,_ that you stop several feet away from her.

A trainee awakening. It is unheard of.

But she slips past her limits and suddenly her Yoki is massive. You cannot imagine a child, even a bad omen, becoming a monster.

A prayer slips pass your lips. You raise your sword.

Then, with speed that surpasses even Rigaldo, tendrils surround you and slam you into the ground.

The first thing you register is that you are no longer holding your sword. You curse, but even the words come out in a struggle. There was no other Yoki in the area when you approached the girl. But now you are surrounded by something else. Something powerful. It is almost identical to the girl's, but instead of a stream it is an ocean. Even Isley, the first Abyssal One of the continent, the strongest warrior you have ever known, isn't this powerful.

You move your head as much as you can. A woman in the tattered remains of a warrior’s uniform is standing where you once were. Her long black hair has extended into the tendrils that entrap you. There is a large sack burdening her shoulder, the outline of it giving nothing away. There is no sword, no armor. But she carries herself in some terrible mockery of a warrior that is both nostalgic and painful. You can’t help but wonder if all Awakened Beings are liked that. You wonder if Isley is like that now.

She looks down, and your eyes meet hers.

You open your mouth to say something, but even you don’t know what words you’re trying to form. She watches you for a moment. Then she turns and stares at the girl as if there is nothing else in the world that matters. Perhaps, to this woman, the girl _is_ the only thing that matters.

The awakening finishes, and before you both is a humanoid girl. She is the same size as before, and her hair is pigmented light brown instead of the telltale blonde of a warrior. She stands, staggering as she tries to find her balance. Her breathing, the harsh jagged pattern of trying to fill lungs with much needed air, is the only thing you can hear. Nothing else is out of the ordinary. She could pass as a human now.

In the next second, her body contorts as if it remembers that she is not actually human. Yoki spills out of her and all you can do is stare as new features appear. First are the wings. Feathered wings that grow as big as her small body. Then a halo-like crown made of tendrils forms atop her head. The body settles afterwards. A stray thought wonders if the body has simply had enough of a transformation.

You remember when you were a human and your mother told you stories about angels and goddesses. She had said that good boys and girls could see them, that they hid in plain sight waiting for the worthy to come along. You wonder if seeing this proves you are a bad omen.

The woman, the Awakened Being that is holding you down without even sparing a thought, tosses the sack off of her shoulder. You look and realize that no, it is not a sack. It is a human.

The girl lunges forward and rips the human open with her hands. The sound of breaking skin and bones is deafening. You think that you can hear the last screams of the unfortunate soul, unconscious but aware of his demise. Guts and blood spill everywhere. You shut your eyes as the monster devours her meal.

Isley’s voice is in your head again. Somehow, that is worse than everything else.

The sounds of consumption stop, and despite everything, you look up. The girl, the new Awakened Being, is holding out an organ in her bloodied hands. She is staring at the dark-haired woman with something that takes you a moment to identify as determination. Maybe even adoration.

It takes you even longer to realize what is happening. An Awakened Being _sharing._ An Awakened Being, newly created and starving like her predecessors, sharing her meal.

The Awakened Being with dark hair laughs. It’s light and full of joy and you cannot remember the last time you heard someone laugh with such untainted happiness. She walks over to the girl and leans down. The tendrils holding you extend with her movement, so you are never once given a chance to move, let alone escape.

"It's for you, Clare. Eat up." Her smile, while faint on her lips before, grows wider. "You need to keep up your strength."

The girl looks at the older Awakened Being for a moment longer, before nodding and returning to her meal.

All you can do is stare and try to process everything before you.

* * *

When the girl finishes eating, the two walk into the valley at ease. The older Awakened Being brings you along, another lock of hair bringing your sword. You don't try to escape. Your will to fight is lost to fear and curiosity. Even Isley’s voice falls quiet.

You are brought into you own house and placed on the ground, standing.

"We'll be using your place for a bit. As long as you don't do anything, you'll live." The older Awakened Being brings the holy sword to her hands, examining it in the fading light. "Holy Sword Raki. I thought the rumors were just… rumors.”

"Uh... yes," you manage to get out. "It's been... It's been a long time since –”

You pause. When was the last time that you spoke to a warrior? When was the last time you spoke to _anyone?_

“Since someone remembered,” you finish. The words sound as if they have been punched out of you.

The girl looks at you for the first time since she has appeared in your life. Her eyes widen and you recognize the signs of panic. She claws into the woman, the untamed force ripping into the uniform. "Teresa! Teresa!"

The woman looks down at the girl. She reaches up to ruffle the girl’s hair, but even she stops before touching the halo. "It's fine, Clare. We’re just going to rest here for a bit."

"But – But –” The girl starts to cry. She wraps her arms around the woman. "They almost – You almost – almost –”

"Still a crybaby, even now?" The woman pats the girl’s shoulder, a compromise to herself. Her smile radiates amusement. "I told you, things will be okay."

"They almost killed you! They said you were dead! They –” Whatever else the girl is going to say is lost to her sobs. She buries her face into the woman’s hip. It does little to muffle the sound.

"They won't kill me _or_ take you away again." The woman motions to the bed. It’s as if she has taken the house from you. Then again, you cannot say that she hasn’t. "Come on, Clare. Get some sleep."

The girl stares at the woman, pain and utter exhaustion carved into her features. You don't understand what you are witnessing but it goes on and on. Finally, she nods. "Only if you sleep next to me."

"Alright, alright."

This promise seems to calm the girl. She quickly drags the woman over to the bed, and arranges them so she can hold onto the woman as she sleeps. The woman follows the motions, leaning against the wall as the girl settles. She rests one hand on the girl's shoulder. A tendril adjusts the wings so that they are folded against the small body, out of the way but comfortable. The girl’s breathing settles. Within seconds, she is asleep.

The smile on the woman’s face appears sincere. It makes you think of Isley, and you want to throw up because of it.

"Who are you?" you manage at last.

"Teresa. This sleeping log –” She looks at the girl. The girl's wings are bobbing up and down with her breathing. " – is Clare."

When you were still a human, your mother told you about the twin goddesses. Teresa and Clare, known for their beauty and kindness. You never paid much attention to those stories; you wanted tales of knights and adventures, not of kindness. It’s too late now to wish for otherwise.

Your stomach, having been silent for most of the day, protests for food. You move towards the basket of fruit you keep in the coldest corner of the house. You make your motions as nonthreatening as possible; dying would not help anyone. "You must have had a moniker."

"Hmph. You’re not going to ask me for my number?"

"You have to be the Number 1 of your generation," you say. You take some of the fruit and begin to eat. You wonder if Awakened Beings eat fruit, but quickly chase the thought out of your head. "Someone with so much power can't _not_ be Number 1."

You think of Isley. You once thought that his power was limitless. Unreachable. Maybe this is still the case, and you have just found a bigger infinity than his.

The Awakened Being considers your answer. "Fair enough, I suppose. They called me Teresa of the Faint Smile."

The fruit you were holding drops to the floor, splattering its sticky guts. You have heard of this woman. You can't think of anyone who _hasn't_. Even the humans, as ignorant as they are about the matters of warriors, are terrified of her. There had been a flurry of rumors about this “Teresa of the Faint Smile” as of late. Seeing her, awakened and protectively watching over Clare, makes some things clear.

The list of questions, however, grows even longer.

"You killed a large bandit group. The Organization was after your head," you say. "No one said you had awakened."

"They knew. Maybe they just didn't want to believe," she says. "They don't have much of a choice now. I left quite a mess in the east."

"You..." The words dry up in your mouth. You try again. "You attacked the Organization? Head on?"

"Only the trainee area." She wraps her arm tighter around Clare. "They took her from me. I just took her back."

You open your mouth to point out that the trainee area is right next to the headquarters, but stop yourself. To someone of Teresa's power, the Organization must have been simply flies. Easy to kill. Insignificant.

You try not to dwell on the thought.

"How did you awaken?"

"You have a lot of questions," Teresa says. There is no annoyance in her voice. Only amusement. "The Organization sent warriors after me, and one awakened. She managed to cut off my sword arm. When she went after Clare, I awakened and fought back."

Something twists in your gut. You try to ignore it.

"And Clare’s Yoki is identical to yours. How is that possible?"

Teresa shrugs. "They took my arm when they took Clare from me. They must have found a way to transfer the flesh of a Claymore into others."

You think about all of the stories that you have heard over the years, made up of rumors and whispers in the wind. You think about the horror stories that find their way to you since you have retired. You think about Luciela, the "Failed Experiment" who lives in the south. You think about your days as a trainee, when the boys passed along stories about the times before bodies were sewn shut to keep in the organs.

"And now she's awakened too." You look at the slumbering girl. "Did she even know what was happening?”

“Does it matter to you?”

“Yes,” you bite out.

Teresa stares at you. You think this is the first time you see surprise on her face. You can’t help but stare back, and a voice in your head – not Isley’s, but Riful’s – is asking if you want to die.

“She knew,” Teresa says at last. Her voice is soft, but it strangles the breath out of you.

“No,” you hear yourself muttering.

“It’s just like her,” Teresa continues. “I tried to leave her somewhere nice, somewhere with humans that will love her… But all she does is follows me. It’s annoying.” There is laughter in her words. It makes you dizzy.

“She doesn’t understand,” you say. The words are beginning to tumble out of you. “She’ll eat humans for the rest of her life. She’s a monster –”

A tendril wraps around your head, covering your mouth. Your body jerks, expecting to be killed. But Teresa just frowns at you.

“You’re going to wake her up,” she says. The tendril goes away. Your words, a jumbled mess trying to explain your thoughts, go away as well.

Awakened Beings caring for each other. It is not completely unheard of. But you’ve never heard of it going to this extent.

You mill around your house until exhaustion settles in. You manage to find an extra blanket and pillow stored away in your things. You don’t really need them; you remember the days of sleeping on forest floors and even lesser comforts. But those memories beckon memories of Isley, and you don’t think you can handle that tonight.

Throughout it all you can feel Teresa’s eyes on you.

Before you go to sleep, you cannot help but ask, “How did you know who I am?”

"It's not common knowledge, but people talk." Teresa shrugs. "You were Isley’s protégé. Some say you are going to appear one day and kill him. Wishful thinking, probably."

For a second, you see Isley before you. He is not the Isley you knew, the warrior that took you in and gave you everything. There is no kind smile, not even a mouth on the towering being. There is no hole running through his body either.

Maybe you should stop calling him “Isley.” The Awakened Being isn’t the warrior you cling to in dreams. But if the monster is no longer Isley, maybe you no longer have a purpose.

"Probably," you agree.

That night, as you sleep on the floor, you dream of Isley the warrior. He stands strong before you and in the back of your mind you know there is a cut going down his torso, being held together by a thread.

* * *

Teresa and Clare are still present when you wake the next morning. Teresa has kept to her words; they insert themselves as guests in your house but do nothing against you. The intrusion into your life is more prominent. But despite everything you know about Awakened Beings, you do not protest.

You are washing your clothes in the nearby lake when Clare finds you. You have taken off your shirt, having gotten fruit juices on it earlier that day. It has been minutes, maybe hours, but the stains refuse to leave. You scrub and scrub and the damn stain won’t even move –

You lose control of your strength and rip the shirt. Isley would have been disappointed.

You curse. You have worked so hard to control your strength, to master this body that has not truly been yours since you became part-monster, the body that is your greatest weapon but has ruined you at the same time –

"Teresa says that it didn't hurt," Clare says. "Is that true?"

You stare at the girl. Your mouth moves, but words don't come out. Somehow, you had forgotten that the cut is visible. The hole in your torso, the one that runs down your body and is held together by a single thread, is as present as the day you received it. The skin is not the angry red that it once was, however; your body had accepted it long ago.

Clare, on the other hand, looks as if she is about to cry. "Mine hurt a lot when they gave it to me."

It takes you a moment to remember that Clare probably wasn't a trainee for long. She probably never had the pain fade away before become an Awakened Being. Maybe she can still feel it now, even if her body has repaired itself on the way to becoming a monster.

"The pain went away a long time ago," you finally say. "It doesn't hurt anymore."

You feel like you're lying.

Still, Clare nods once before running into the house and comes out with a new shirt. She holds it out for you between both of her trembling hands. You accept it, and the two of you continue as if nothing happened.

* * *

Days have passed. You feel like you are tempting fate by letting them pass as they do. But the voices have stayed quiet and you think that is good enough.

"She doesn’t even have the correct form," you say to Teresa one morning, your eyes watching Clare. The girl is holding out your claymore, trying to cut the pile of logs before her. It has only been a few minutes since she grabbed the sword. It is enough time to tell you that she is not going to achieve what she set out to do. "How long was she with them for?"

"Too long," Teresa says. "They already completed one experiment on her. They probably were planning more."

"Hm." You look towards your other sword leaning against the doorway. Teresa had not damaged the holy sword when she subdued you, and you are grateful. "Let me teach her."

"What?" Teresa spares you a glance. The smile on her face is filled with amusement. If you allow yourself to think about it, many of her recent smiles have been filled with amusement. "You want to teach an Awakened Being how to fight?"

The words return you to reality. You wonder, probably not for the first time, if you are losing your mind. You turn your focus back onto Clare. She has struck again, and the logs roll away from where the claymore has landed.

"I just don't want my sword damaged,” you say.

Teresa snorts. "Have you ever seen a claymore damaged?"

You don't bother to answer.

* * *

Clare sometimes goes into the woods that cover the mountains. She seems excited to explore the land. Teresa, as always, folds to Clare's will and follows her.

At those times, you think about leaving. It would be impossible to escape Teresa alone, but there is a slim chance if it is Teresa saddled with Clare. Or perhaps, you think to yourself, you can wait them out. If you give them enough time, it is likely they will leave your house in peace. If you are fast enough afterwards, you can alert the Organization.

The thoughts of leaving or getting the Organization's attention never last. Most times, you instead gather fruit and practice your swordplay.

One day when they are gone, almost two months into their stay, you go and find a clothing merchant in the nearest town. You barter for some clothes to replace the worn items. The merchant doesn't ask you to remove the hood of your cloak. If he knows that you are a silver-eyed warrior, he never says.

Before you leave, you notice children playing on the street. Their shouts of joy fill the air. It brings back memories of your brother, of being human. You are smiling before you realize.

There are future Yoma victims in that group. There are future warriors there.

It’s an ugly thought that comes into your head, and you try unsuccessfully to chase it out. You close your eyes. You count your breaths. You even try to bring back the voices, as if their ugliness can outweigh that one thought. Nothing works. So you turn back to the children in hopes of a distraction. A young girl runs past you, her dress flowing around her as she runs.

You turn back to the merchant. "Do you have dresses for girls here?"

The man stares at you, confused. But he nods and brings forth his stock. You buy two, and then another dress about Teresa's size. You don't know why.

When you return, night has taken over the valley. There is a fading fire by the house that flickers at you as you pass. You open the door to find Clare asleep on the bed, Teresa sitting with her as always. There are piles of flowers and fruits on the blanket that marks your sleeping area.

"She wanted to stay up and wait for you," Teresa says to your unasked question. There are flowers in her hair, and you cannot help but stare. It takes her a moment to realize what you are staring at. "Is there another flower in my hair? She's been doing this all day."

You chuckle before you can stop yourself. Teresa glares at you, but otherwise remains silent as you move to put things away. When you turn back, her eyes have fallen close and her breathing is peaceful. You realize that you are smiling at the scene. It remains on your lips, even as you try to chase it away with your own need for sleep.

You wake the next morning to Clare excitedly examining the dresses. She gives you a beaming smile which you can't help but return.

"I had to guess what you would want," you say as she goes to try one of them on. "I don't keep up with fashion."

Clare is still beaming as she looks at herself. "Thank you so much!" She gives you a hug, and in the next instant she is across the room holding Teresa's new dress. "You should wear yours too!"

Teresa takes the dress, trying her best to look annoyed. "I haven't worn a dress in years."

Still, she puts it on at Clare's insistent protests. It is large on her frame, but otherwise looks fine. She looks like a human.

It takes you a moment to recognize the feeling bubbling within you as jealousy.

* * *

Both you and Teresa are watching Clare as the girl tries once again to use your claymore. The sword looks comical in her hands; claymores are always so menacing in size, and Clare is so very very small. You wonder if this is how you looked to Isley all those years ago. You wonder if anyone could pinpoint that moment where you were a proper match for your sword.

Clare swings the claymore. Some of the logs before her fall to pieces. Others roll away unscratched.

"She's grown attached to you," Teresa says at last. "She'll never let you go now."

You remain silent. You have noticed it already; your thoughts are no longer about your own survival. Your dreams are less of Isley and Riful and all of the other warriors that have long stopped being warriors. Instead you dream about fields. Knights. You dream that you do not have a scar running down your body that will never close.

You dream about being human.

“It’s…” You try to find the proper words, before you give up and just stay with the truth. “It’s not terrible.”

Teresa raises an eyebrow at you. "She got a former Number 1 to awaken and still be her pet. You think that’s okay?"

"Pet?" you repeat, latching onto something that is easier to grasp. "Is that what you call yourself?"

"Do you have a better word for it?" Teresa asks. But her eyes fall back onto Clare, and any bite in her words vanish. "There are worse things in life to be."

"Yeah." You watch as Clare clumsily cuts through some of the logs again. This time, she manages to create splinters out of the middle one. "Yeah."

The next day, you give Clare your claymore and begin to teach her swordplay.

* * *

When the two Awakened Beings eat, they do so far away from the house. On those days, you will wake up to find yourself the only being in the valley. You sometimes tell yourself that Clare has found something to interest Teresa early in the morning. Sometimes you think that Teresa has something new to show the young girl. Sometimes, you try not to think at all.

But Clare always looks anywhere but you when they return, so it is impossible not to know.

"We try to find bandits or vagabonds," Teresa tells you one night. It is the first time she has said anything since they returned that evening. It is a slight improvement over yourself; you have not spoken at all. "They only cause trouble, so there's no one who will miss them."

"And what do you do on the days you don't find bandits?" you ask. You feel like you need to ask, even if you know you will not like the answer.

"There are always troublemakers in towns. Drunks, thieves. People who sell their family members to the Organization,” Teresa says. “Humans are not all good people. Sometimes, it’ll be better for everyone else if they were dead.”

You think about the bad omens. You wonder if they also deserve to be dead, before they are left to wander the earth with wishes and promises unfulfilled. A mercy, perhaps, that they would not understand.

"Am I supposed to believe that you've never hurt an innocent person before?" you ask.

"Feel free to believe whatever you like. Things happen, and we make do." She brushes some of Clare's hair with her hand. The girl moves to the touch, but otherwise remains asleep. "You can try and get the Organization involved if you would like."

"You would kill me before I could leave."

You both know the statement is not true, that it hasn't been true for some time. Still, the conversation ends there. Neither of you find it fit to bring it up again.

* * *

You continue your own practice every day. You switch between all of the weapons you have, although you will always prefer your holy sword. You try to replicate the motions from memory. Some of them are harder than others, your motions nothing like the movements you have observed and copied. The motions of swordplay remain the easiest.

Most days, Clare watches you from a distance. She is silent and unmoving. The last person to have taken such an intense interest in your practice was Isley, and that had been a lifetime ago.

"Are you still trying to kill Isley?" Clare asks one day.

You pause, sheathing your sword. "Did Teresa tell you that?"

"Kind of," Clare admits. "I had to ask her a lot."

You can't help but smile when imagining the scene.

It takes you some time to find the words. After all, you never had to describe Isley to someone before. Everyone already knew about the Silver King of the North.

"Isley was my mentor," you say at last. Then you try again, because you feel like you are committing some injustice with your words. "Isley was everything to me. My family was dead, and the town willingly sold me to the Organization. I had nothing else to live for, but he gave me a reason.”

“Oh,” Clare says. She stares at the ground, and you think you can see tears forming in her eyes. “I’m sorry.”

"Don’t be.” You pat the girl on the head. “Isley… Isley was a good man. One day I will honor that and allow him to go to peace.”

Clare looks contemplative at your response. You begin your exercises again as she sits and thinks over your words.

When you finish, she returns to your side.

"I want to help you."

You stare at the girl. "I... No one has ever offered to help."

It is true, for the most part. Even Riful didn't say she would help you. If there had been a request to go after Isley, she may have honored her promise and fetched you. But she had her own wishes as a warrior, and followed her own path. You don't know how she is as an Awakened Being, but you suspect that the monster would laugh in your face before honoring her promise.

"I'm getting stronger, right? So I can fight with you," Clare says. The determination in her voice is unwavering.

It is true, however much it goes against what you know about Awakened Beings, that Clare is getting stronger. Her sword skills have vastly improved since you have started teaching her. And Teresa has always been actively teaching Clare how to use her new body. And against all odds, Clare's Yoki has grown from a stream to a lake. Given enough time, she will likely become an ocean like Teresa.

Given enough time, the Organization will lose their chance to kill her.

"We both need to get stronger," you say at last. "Isley is an Abyssal One for a reason."

"Okay." Clare looks towards your claymore, resting by the doorway to the house. "Can we practice now?"

"Yeah." For the rest of the day, you teach Clare how to fight. The sounds of claymore hitting holy sword last throughout the night. It rings in your ears even as you dream, drowning out the voices of the townspeople that try to speak.

The next morning, an Awakened Being comes to the valley. There is nothing left of the warrior; the form isn’t humanoid, and the only sounds are growls and screams. Instead there is just a monster, the husk of a warrior who lost herself to her Yoki. There are too many who lose their personalities, lose all sense of self, to the awakening.

While Clare is sleeping, you and Teresa go to kill it. It is then that you tell Teresa of Clare's promise.

"Hmph. She always gets into trouble like this." Teresa shakes her head.  She has taken your claymore and brandishes it as if it is her own sword. Teresa does not have the technique that Isley had, but her swordplay is nonetheless mesmerizing. "But there's no stopping her."

"I don’t want her to fight," you say. You block the Awakened Being’s claws, and the sound of the clash fills the valley. You wince; Clare needs her sleep. "Even if she gets to be more powerful than him… _I’m_ the one that owes Isley. She doesn’t need to be tangled up in this mess."

"Would you let her get that strong?"

You step back before launching yourself at the Awakened Being’s head. It comes off with one stroke. The body collapses, and the dying creature’s moans waver into nothing.

Teresa continues. "You know her potential. She's still growing."

"You would kill me before I could even move against her," you say.

"That isn't what I'm asking."

You fall silent. You remember the news of Evan's awakening. You remember Isley, terrified of the possibility of becoming a monster. And then later, the look on his face as you were healing from Rigaldo. How he felt responsible for you. For everyone.

You remember when Isley awakened before you. You remember him attacking and leaving you for dead.

You think about how, moments before, you hoped Clare remained asleep through the noise.

Your silence is enough of an answer.

"You've become her pet too," Teresa says.

This time, you don't argue about word choice.

* * *

You decide to finally ask Teresa.

"Why didn't you kill me?"

Teresa looks at you, her hand hovering above Clare's head. The girl is asleep against the woman, her arms wrapped tightly around Teresa's waist. It has been months, seasons, and still Clare refuses to sleep any other way. Teresa, as always, humors the girl.

You repeat yourself. "Why didn’t you kill me back when Clare awakened? You could have easily done so. Clare didn't even like me at first."

"Does it matter?" she asks. "You're still alive now."

"I'm curious," you admit. "I never heard of an Awakened Being becoming friends with a warrior."

"Is that what we are? Friends?" The faint smile returns. "Who's to say I won't kill you tomorrow?"

"Clare wouldn’t let you," you say.

Teresa laughs. "That is true."

Silence falls between the two of you. You sit against the wall, sleep almost claiming you, when Teresa speaks.

"When I was a warrior, Clare told me she could see sadness in my eyes. No one had ever said that to me before. No one ever cared."

"That sounds like her," you say with a chuckle.

"Your eyes had the same look."

The chuckle dies.

Teresa continues as if nothing has happened. "I don't know why I recognized it. Clare would have seen it if she wasn't so clingy at the time. But after seeing that... It felt like a waste to kill you. So I didn't."

You stare at the ground. There are tears forming in your eyes.

"I wished Isley had killed me," you admit. "He was everything to me. I thought that I would be by his side forever. And then he... then he..." A sob shakes your body, and soon all you can do is force yourself to be as quiet as possible. You don't want to wake Clare up.

"You want to show him mercy," Teresa says.

You nod, shakily. "I owe... I owe him that... owe him so much," you manage to say. Then a new set of sobs take over your body and you cry for the rest of the night.

You fall asleep sometime after you run out of tears. When you wake up, you are on the bed and Clare is clinging onto you. You let sleep take you again, hugging Clare back.

* * *

 Almost a year after Teresa and Clare have come into your life, you find Teresa staring at the mountains.

"There are some Claymores searching this area," she says. "A group of five. I recognize one of their Yoki."

"What are you going to do?" you ask.

"If they have _her_ in their group, then they're probably looking for me." One of her locks of hair shoots out and takes your claymore. "It shouldn't take me too long to take care of them."

"Are you going to kill them?"

"Do you really want me to answer that?" She shakes her head. "Watch over Clare. This should be over with soon."

In an instant, Teresa transforms to her awakened form. You stare; you have never seen Teresa's form before, despite the time. It is almost a mirror image to Clare's; the only difference is that it’s Teresa's human form who has wings and a halo.

"Be careful," you say. Somehow, you can't think of a life with Teresa dead. She is as much of a constant as Isley once was.

She gives you a smile. "I'll be back soon enough."

With that, she flies off. You watch the sky until she becomes less than a dot against the blue. The voices, which have been silent for months, start to whisper.

You spend the rest of the day with Clare curled up against you. She cries and cries, filled with a fear that you cannot calm.

"Teresa almost died!" the girl says between sobs. "She can't die again! She can't leave us!"

"She won't," you say. "Nothing can kill her."

You try to believe your own words over the next week. You don't know why, but the fear in you is greater than when Isley went after Evan. There is no sense to the fear; this is not filled with unknowns and the fear of awakening shouldn’t even register. You know who the enemy is. You know that Teresa is beyond what Isley was, what Isley has become. There is no one who can withstand her. But the voices get louder each night, and holding yourself together for Clare’s sake is somehow more painful than anything else.

Your fear takes on a different form when two warriors come into the valley.

Clare is hiding behind you, shaking, the moment she spots them. "They tried to kill Teresa before. They were there. They..." She begins to cry into your shirt. You tremble with her, although for different reasons.

The warriors take no notice of Clare's tears. "You're – Are you Holy Sword Raki?" one of them asks. "Why are you protecting her? You must know what she is."

"You should leave," you say. Your grip on the holy sword tightens.

"We will strike you down if you do not move," the other warrior says.

Clare clings to you tighter.

"Clare," you say softly. "You need to let go."

"But –”

"Don't worry," you say. You hold out the holy sword, a gift from a different life, against the warriors. "It shouldn't take long."

Clare lets go, and you strike first.

The two warriors that are after Clare are very strong. They have to be single-digits. But you hold your own, blocking and striking more times than they can reach you. You never thought you could be this powerful. Hiding in this valley, training every day of the years and years that have passed, have left its mark. You are faster. Stronger.

Maybe you have surpassed Rigaldo. Maybe.

One of them, however, moves at such a speed that reminds you of him. It is still faster than you, and it is only your experience that prevents her from striking you as much as Rigaldo could. She hesitates after some time. You wonder, perhaps, if she will take the other warrior and leave. But she instead diverts from your battle and rushes towards Clare.

You swear, and try to keep up.

Clare is running, her wings starting to form on her back. But the warrior is catching up, and despite the power that Clare has she is still so young and confused and frightened. You can't reach, you aren't fast enough, you don't want to fail Clare, to see her head rolling away and to not have her in your life, to fail one more person –

You release all of your Yoma energy. The same words loop through your head as your body morphs.

_Please be enough. Please be enough._

You go past the point of no return. The awakening tears through your body, leaving behind an insatiable hunger.


	3. Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A girl stands before you. She smells just like you, and unlike the other beings you have seen she doesn’t seem scared. Her hands and dress are covered in blood. There are feathered wings on her back. They are pristine, and somewhere in your head, you think of snow and a silver king. But there is no king before you. There is only this girl.

You open your eyes and gaze at the land before you. It remains unmoving, as if caught in ice. The valley rolls out and covers everything it touches in green. A lake is nestled nearby, the surface rippling but only so slightly that it distorts the reflection cast upon its surface. The mountains extend behind the valley. It is supposed to be yours. All yours.

You look down. There are two warriors before you. They look in your direction, but they do not look into your eyes. The realization comes to you instantly; they are terrified of you. The feeling is familiar and you don’t know why. It inspires fear in you. Then anger. Before they can move against you, you go forth and strike them both down. It only takes a swing from each hand to grind them into the dirt. The anger fills you even more at the sight. It consumes your body and you strike them over and over and over.

One warrior comes apart. Her guts spill out, smashed and bloodied, and the smell is so bad yet so tantalizing that you stop attacking. You lower your head and soon your mouth is full of guts. They taste as they smell; bitter and sour and _ruined._ If you weren't so hungry you would have spit them out. But you are so, so hungry that you just eat and eat and try to get your fill.

They aren't enough. You wonder if there ever will be enough.

You smell the flesh before you see it. It is coming towards you. Before you can even stand it is within reach. The human is shaking, terrified. The fear, the guts, smell delicious.

You rip into the body and eat. The hunger, the everlasting hunger, grows a little quieter.

You eat until there is nothing but bones left. You look up. Maybe you’re expecting more. Maybe you’re expecting nothing.

A girl stands before you. She smells just like you, and unlike the other beings you have seen she doesn’t seem scared. Her hands and dress are covered in blood. There are feathered wings on her back. They are pristine, and somewhere in your head, you think of snow and a silver king. But there is no king before you. There is only this girl.

She stares at you as if she is waiting for you to answer her. You open your mouth, and your voice supplies a sound before you can think.

"C... Clare?"

The name comes out of you easily once you say it. Clare. Clare. This Clare is important. _You_ are important to Clare.

You say the name again. You realize that, underneath the blood of your meal, your teeth are larger than you are used to.

The girl begins to cry. It makes you want to reach out to her. You don’t know why.

You look down at your hands. Like your teeth, they are unfamiliar. They are large and made of armored flesh. They remind you of monsters. One of them moves under your stare, and you watch mesmerized as it becomes something different. A sword.

For a moment, you think you can remember another being with hands that can turn into weapons. But the memory is vague and disappears as you try to focus on it. You realize that your head should be filled with memories, things that can explain the familiar and unfamiliar. But there are only a few there, and even then they are only shadows.

The anger is being replaced by emptiness.

"I... I..."

You should be terrified. Upset. Why aren't you? Why does this feel okay?

Clare reaches out for you, her small arms wrapping around your waist. For a moment, you think that she is somehow smaller than what she should be. Or maybe you are simply bigger. She is sobbing against you. It makes you shake. "Thank you. Thank you. Thank you."

The confusion, anger, emptiness, _everything_ , fades. You lift your arms, the sword becoming a hand again. You hold onto the girl as she cries. The memories, you think, don’t matter right now.

* * *

You sleep that night in a body that doesn't feel like your own. It is an odd sensation. You think that you are dreaming. Except that cannot be true, because the hunger is real and never ending.

When you wake up in the morning, Clare has brought you several creatures. They are not human nor warrior; just animals, moving things that you feel like you recognize. You open them up with your hands. But they are not just hands anymore. They change again and again and you can name whatever shape they take. Axe. Mace. Sword. And then back to your hands.

The guts taste different than humans. They fill you, but your tongue is unsatisfied with the meal. You don't know what it is, but there is something about the food that is foreign to you. It doesn't fill you like a satisfying meal should.

Clare watches you as you eat. There is a carcass of an animal besides her, and the remains of the guts sit in her hands. The fresh blood has soaked through her dress.

"Raki?" Her voice sounds so small, and if you had still been eating you wouldn't have heard her.

You look at her. The word is familiar. You don't know why.

She runs up and hugs you tightly, burrowing her face into your shoulder. She has started crying again. You return the hug. You can feel the tears running down your own face.

"Raki! Raki!"

Clare repeats the word over and over. Each time, you feel like you are close to recognizing what it is supposed to mean. What it is supposed to mean to _you_. But your memories don't come back. You try not to lose what little you do have.

Clare is important to you, and you are important to Clare. It is the only thing you know and you cling to it as if there is nothing else in the world.

* * *

The hunger growls. No matter how much you eat, it sits in you and never lets you go.

Clare continues to bring you creatures, and you do not protest. Somewhere in your head you know that Clare is doing the best that she can. Her Yoki is huge, but she doesn't know how to use it. You don't know how to use your own, however, so you cannot teach her.

You don't know why you want to teach her. But the want sits in you, quieter than the hunger but just as present and determined.

It is a few days later before Clare looks at you with intent.

"Can you become a human?" she asks.

You stare at her. Human? Had you looked human before?

When you do not answer, Clare frowns. "The first time it happened for me, I just woke up looking human. I don't know how Teresa did it."

You try and imagine what your human form looks like. Why does it feel like you have not been a human for a long time? Perhaps you haven't.

Clare looks towards the mountains. You follow her gaze. For a second, you imagine another being with wings, pristine and white like Clare's, flying into them. You imagine a large sword. You think that the sword is yours. But that doesn't make sense; your hands can turn into swords. Why would you need another?

"I don't know why she isn't back," Clare says. She is starting to cry again, but this time she wipes her tears away. "But she'll come back. She always comes back."

You want to say that Teresa will always come back to Clare. You do not know who Teresa is, but you know that the statement is true without any doubt. You whisper the name, and you think of a smile faintly appearing on lips.

"Should we go find her?" Clare asks aloud. She doesn't look at you when she speaks.

Teresa. Teresa. Teresa. Now the name won't leave you. You whisper it over and over.

"I don't sense anyone else. Maybe it will be okay if we go find her."

Teresa. Teresa. Teresa.

"We need to find her," Clare says. She smiles at you as she does. "She can help you turn human again."

You think it is an odd wish. You are sure that you haven't been a human for a long time. You don't know why you would want to be human.

Clare goes into the house and moves things into a bag. It looks big for Clare, but she carries it without tipping over and when she walks, it is with purpose. She takes a sword, one that has an odd hilt and shines in the light and makes you think of the stars at night, and carries it in both hands.

You do not say anything as Clare brings you into the woods.

* * *

You don't know how long it has been when Clare makes you stop walking.

You have brought down trees with your movements, and Clare has tried to move you around them so you will knock down less. She says that knocking over trees is bad. You don't know why it is bad. But you follow her instructions and move slowly.

But today Clare makes you stop completely. She is looking ahead, and you feel like something is before you that you do not understand.

You sniff the air. You smell the blood.

Clare pushes you back before you are able to jump forward. You don't understand why. There are humans there. There are humans and their warm delicious guts and the hunger within you is telling you snatch them up and devour them whole.

“Wait! We don’t know –”

A scream pierces the air. It sounds familiar, as if you have heard it before. Different people, different humans, but the scream is still the same.

Clare lets you go. “Come on!”

You follow her forward. The trees fill the air with thunder as they fall before you. You can feel your jaw changing, opening and ready for food. You think that this will be the time, this time you will have your fill and that hunger will be quiet.

The two of you come upon a large group of humans. They are male and are laughing while one of them is twisting in the center of their gathering. The smell of blood reaches you before you see the crimson red splashed across the man's stomach. His fear is swallowed by the laughter.

Your hand turns into a blade before you think about it. You cut down two of the humans, and the smell of the blood and the guts call out to you. You open your mouth and begin to eat.

The humans around you scream. It's annoying and they are beginning to run and you can't let them leave, because if they leave there will be less food and that hunger will just keep demanding and demanding for more and more.

You hold out your arm, the one that was a blade, but it's now turning into a bow, and your other hand is already reaching out and drawing back with rods you think are supposed to be arrows, but you know they are part of you because you _weren't_ carrying arrows before but why does that matter, really? You send the arrows flying and many of the humans fall, with blood and guts exposed to the air and you can smell them and your hunger is just so, so demanding right now. Clare is moving around too, cutting humans down with her hair and you can just hear the screams, smell the fear that is surrounding you both and you know that it will be a feast because not one of these humans can escape.

You begin to eat again, and the taste of human is delicious. You don't know how Clare can stop eating humans, how she could stop you from eating them, because they are tasty and the blood makes you think of a well-deserved meal and –

You look up. Clare is standing over the man from earlier. The one who screamed and had his blood and guts spilling out before you two even did anything. The human is whimpering in pain. For some reason, the fear is not as delicious as it is with the other humans. It feels like something in you is hurting. You cannot name the reason for this pain.

Clare leans over and cleans some of the blood away with her hands. Underneath, there is the gleam of metal. The pattern on the armor is familiar. It makes you think of large walls. It makes you think of someone saying, “Thank you.”

You move forward. Now that you are listening, you can hear the faint voice repeating and chanting words over and over. The words "please" and "mercy" are said often.

Clare looks at you. "He's going to die," she says. "He's in so much pain."

You look at the armor again. You recognize it, but you can't bring up the memories for why you recognize it. But you must have seen it before, because your bow becomes a blade once again and you raise it above this human. The human's eyes are closed and his words are becoming groans and weighty breaths.

"Please," the human mutters.

You bring the blade down, separating his head from his body.

Clare doesn't move. She stares at the head, tears in her eyes. "I wish we could have helped him."

You watch as she cleans away more blood, arranging the man's hands so they are resting on his chest. She moves the head back to his neck. Throughout it all, the man looks peaceful.

While you two are eating the other humans, you find a sword with a strange hilt. It doesn't look like the swords of the other humans; rather, it looks like the sword that Clare has been carrying since the two of you have left the valley. As you stare at it, you wonder why the sword is so important to you. You take this other sword to the man with the armor and place it by his side.

You don't eat the man with the armor. You and Clare leave him alone as you finish your meal and continue your search for someone named Teresa.

* * *

The two of you only walk for a little while more before Clare stops. She gestures to an open space beneath some trees, and you sit there.

Clare sits next to you, leaning against your arm and watching the sky as night falls. She points to the stars as they appeared. "My mama liked the stars," she says. "I think my papa liked them too."

You look at her. You think about the stars being spirits of the dead. You think about them watching over you. You think that you can remember telling someone with blond hair, almost white, that the stars are always brilliant and at peace.

You think that the memory is important. You wish you could remember more.

Clare falls asleep against you, clinging onto your hand as if she expects you to slip away. You hold her against you as she sleeps. You think that this is how you are supposed to care for someone who is important to you.

You think about a sword cutting into you with wounds that are not deep but enough to slow you down. You think that this is also love.

When you wake that morning, there is a name that is sitting on your tongue. But it is long gone before you can even speak.

* * *

You can smell the human city before you can see it. The area is surrounded by mountains, and when you are finally able to see the city you just see the walls that surround the settlement. Out of all of the places that you have passed, this is the one that is threatening to bring out the memories that have yet to come.

"Rabona!" Clare says.

The name is familiar. You repeat it. "Rabona."

"It's the holy city," Clare says. "Papa used to tell stories about it. He said that the knights here are the strongest on the continent!"

"Rabona," you repeat again. "Rabona."

"You got your sword from here," Clare says. She holds out the sword she has been carrying. It shines in the sunlight. "Remember?"

You can't remember. But you know that the memory is there. It is waiting, you think, for something. But whatever that something is has yet to come.

Clare looks around the area. "Teresa said this is the center of the continent. Maybe she'll find us here." She gives you a smile. "Let's stay here for a bit!"

You nod your head in agreement. Something wants you to stay here. It is not your hunger, but it is something close to it.

The first night you stay in the mountains overlooking the city, you dream of knights in shining armor. You dream of standing before the city, never once going inside its holy grounds. You dream that you are too impure, too much of a monster, to be let inside. You dream of a knight walking towards you. You dream of being given a sword.

When you wake, you take the sword that Clare has carried. With the hands that still do not feel like your own hands, you look at it in the rising sunlight. It glows, but this time you think that there is something different in the light that it reflects back.

You wonder if you will ever stop being enough of a monster to be let inside.

* * *

It is another presence that wakes you three nights later.

The two of you have sat on the mountain for days. Clare spends her time telling you stories. Now that the two of you are not walking around, Clare talks more and more. She talks about her life with her mama and papa, when the creatures called Yoma were only things from bad dreams. She talks about Teresa, who rescued her from the Yoma that killed her parents and tortured her for fun. She fills the time and part of you wonders why, of all things, Clare stays with you.

She has talked herself to sleep again, and you have fallen asleep quickly after. But it is the presence of another, the presence of Yoki, that wakes you.

You are careful to not wake Clare as you move. In the darkness, you can see a large mass moving towards Rabona. It is a creature like you; big and shaped oddly and so very very hungry. It laughs, and something in you knows that it intends to eat the city.

The Yoki, you realize, is familiar. It makes you think of fast movement and roars. It makes you think of pain.

One of your hands is turning into a bow and suddenly you are standing up, having let out a barrage of arrows at the approaching figure. Clare wakes up, and jumps at the sight of the other creature.

"Who is it?" she asks.

You don't answer, as you do not have an answer. Instead you push yourself forward and move to stand between the monster and the city. The humans behind the walls are shouting, their voices blurring together in your ears. Before you is the creature. The monster.

The monster has a large gash across its chest. One eye is blinded, and part of its arm looks crushed. It is not your doing; your arrows are scattered untouched. Despite its injuries, it stands tall and the Yoki is formidable.

It laughs. "You finally awakened, Raki?"

It is the same name that Clare calls you. One of your hands tightens, and you realize that you have picked up the sword that Clare has carried since the valley. It feels small in your hands. But the weight has finally become recognizable, and you cannot imagine parting with it.

The monster laughs again. "Holy Sword Raki, even now. But you were always weak. Give it up and let me eat."

You point the sword at the monster. It feels familiar. It feels like it happened a lifetime ago.

"Even now, you follow Isley's lead," the monster says. It roars at you, frustration and sadistic pleasure all within the voice. "I should have killed you a long time ago."

A memory finally appears. You were once a different kind of monster, one who struggled to maintain humanity in all the madness. You once watched as others lost their humanity, lost everything, and became twisted monsters. You once saw a man with long hair turn into a monster to protect you.

You remember having pride in being that man's pupil. You remember promising to kill that man one day.

The monster before you strikes, and all you can do is fight back.

* * *

Memories, you think, are a fickle thing.

They come as you fight, and it is disorienting as you try to separate reality from the past. But you cannot completely ignore the memories; you're afraid that if you do, they will disappear into wisps of smoke and you'll never have them again.

You remember being human. You had a mama and a papa just like Clare. You also had a brother who loved you dearly and would give up the world to protect you. You remember days spent helping your papa with the chores and your mama with the cleaning. You remember playing games with your brother.

You remember when your brother was no longer your brother. Instead he was a monster who looked like your brother and ate your parents. Then you were all alone in a house soaked in blood and you were just a bad omen.

You remember the man in black taking you in, and them cutting you open to stick monster guts inside of you. You had a hole that ran down your body. It was held together by a thread and you wished that it would heal. It was never going to leave, you thought. It was a sign that you were no longer a human, you would say. You had silver eyes and blond hair. You carried swords and would strike down monsters who looked like humans because you wanted to save people.

You remember more of the man with long hair. His name is Isley, and his final act of love towards you was to cut you down enough that you could not follow him into the abyss. He was your mentor. He gave you a reason to live.

You remember feeling betrayed. You remember promising that you will save Isley from being the monster that he had become.

* * *

The monster is fast, but you move on instinct and can block most of its attacks. You can't remember a time where you were able to do it as well as you do now. You remind yourself, through the haze of memories, that this is one of the things you have been preparing yourself for.

The monster fights you with a ferocity that terrifies you deep inside. But you keep going, because now you remember why Rabona is so important to you. You cannot let this monster stain its steps.

Fighting back, however, feels impossible. The speed that the monster goes at is fast enough that you cannot land a hit. Every strategy, every movement, that you have practiced cannot hope to strike the beast. You think for a moment that you have forgotten the difference between a Number 5 and a Number 2.

The beast lands a strike on you, and you are sent flying into the city. The pain registers in your head. What shouts at you, however, is the sound of screaming humans. You have entered the city. You have polluted it.

You look up at the sky. The stars are looking down at you. You can remember the stories your mother used to tell of the stars. They are those who have passed on, she had said. They have found peace in the heavens.

You had promised yourself to give peace to those who have become monsters. You cannot keep that promise if you are dead.

You take up your sword and move forward. The monster, the warrior once named Rigaldo, is within the city walls. But it is not feasting. Instead, it is fighting something much stronger than it.

"Clare," you mutter to yourself. You rush forward, following the sounds of fighting throughout the streets until you find them.

The girl has her wings and her halo, and fights with movements that you recognize as those you have taught her. Her Yoki has grown, just like you and Teresa always said it would. It is not an ocean, not quite, but it has grown and could consume the city if it wanted to. The chance for the Organization to kill her has passed.

You tighten your grip on your blade and run forward. You will not allow Clare to fight alone, not even now.

The monster that was once Rigaldo is screaming, crying. He tries to strike Clare, but Clare blocks before he can even begin to move. She runs past him, and suddenly he is missing a leg. The burst of Yoki she released should scare you.

Rigaldo moves blindly towards several buildings. The knights of the holy city, roused from whatever sleepy guard post they occupied, watch in terror and awe. An easy meal.

You move between Rigaldo and the knights. It has been years and years since that one knight gave you a sword and thanked you. The knight must have passed since then. But you still carry the sword, and you must owe that man something. He gave you a name. He gave you kindness.

Rigaldo, the ugly beast that he has become, laughs. "You're not a warrior anymore! Give it up!"

"I'm sorry, Rigaldo," you say. "I failed you once already. I won't fail you again."

You move before Rigaldo can realize what is happening. The head of the monster falls. It leaves your body numb, and that sadness that you had for every one of your comrades that fell to their own Yoki fills you again. You don't know how you could have forgotten it.

"Raki?"

You lift up an arm, and Clare barrels into you. She is crying. Her wings are covered in rubble and blood, and her halo pushes uncomfortably against your chest. But she sounds sad. Sounds human. If all of the knights were elsewhere, if the two of you were alone, you think you would be crying too.

"Let's go, Clare," you say. "Teresa is probably looking for you."

Clare cries harder.

You grunt, and try to angle her head so the halo isn't pushing quite so hard into you. "I'm okay," you say. "I'm okay."

The knights scattered before you. They look at each other nervously. It must be a sight, you think, to see such monsters on holy ground.

"Sorry about the mess," you tell them. You gather Clare into your free arm as best you can, your other still carrying your holy sword. "We'll leave."

None of them stop you as you walk to the city gate. The only thing you can hear over Clare's sobs are their collective whispers. No one follows, and you think it is for the best. The hunger, after all, is still within you. It will always be in you, even more permanent than the hole that once scarred your body.

It is sunrise when you have returned both you and Clare to your resting spot. Clare is no longer sobbing; instead, her head is buried in your shoulder, and her breathing indicates a peaceful slumber. She stirs a little as you place her down, but otherwise remains still.

You look down at your body. It is the form of a human. You don't know how, but you have returned to a form that you recognize. The thread, the hole tearing through your body, is gone. You wonder what color your hair is. You wonder what color your eyes are.

The scent of human fills the air, and you turn away from the city to see a group of men on horse approaching. They are talking to each other and from their movements you suspect that they are drunk. The way that they carry themselves makes you think that they cannot possibly be peaceful travelers. Bandits, possibly.

You take up your sword and go forward. In seconds, you have scattered the horses. The riders lie on the ground, blood spilling and soaking into the earth. They are all screaming in fear. You pick the one closest to you and open their stomach with your hands. There is terror in the other men as you eat.

Clare is standing before you when you finish the first human.

"Eat, Clare," you say. "We still need to find Teresa."

The girl nods, and picks a man who has been screaming the loudest of the remaining humans. "Are they bandits?"

You almost tell her that you don't know. You almost tell her that no matter your morals, you are still hungry and these humans are not the shining knights that you care for. But instead, you nod. "They were drunk. Probably off of their last kill."

"No! No!" One of them is sobbing as he screams at you. "We were just celebrating! We didn't do anything!"

"Ignore him," you tell Clare. "You did really well fighting against Rigaldo. He was the Number 2 of my generation."

Clare opens the man up with her hands. The smell of fresh guts is delicious.

"Teresa was Number 1," Clare said. "She doesn't talk about it much."

"Do you know what it means?"

"It means that she's the best, right?"

"It's a bit more complicated than that. A lot of it is based on power," you explain. "But some of depends on how well you listen to orders. The Organization doesn’t want a loose cannon being Number 1."

"Oh." Clare pauses before she sinks her teeth into human guts. The other humans are whimpering, the realization of their end finally sinking in. "But you said Teresa is really strong?"

"The strongest Number 1 that I have ever met," you say.

"Wow." She smiles brightly. "That must mean she's really, really strong."

“Probably the strongest warrior ever,” you say. “I don’t think I have ever met someone who could be stronger than her.”

“Then where is she?” Clare asks. “She said she wouldn’t be long, right? So where did she go?”

“I don’t know,” you admit. You bring a handful of blood and gut to your mouth. The warm liquid dribbles down your chin. “I don’t think she is hurt. Maybe she went to take down the Organization.”

“Wh – What?!”

Clare’s surprise, and overall openness to express her emotions, makes you laugh. “Teresa would do anything to keep you safe,” you say. “And right now, the Organization is your biggest threat.”

“But – But – That’s dangerous!”

“Not for her,” you say. “The Organization has never created anything that can stand up against her. And I don’t think that they ever will.”

“So she’ll be safe?”

“Always.” You look down at her meal, still squirming as the last of the man’s life slips away. “You better eat, Clare. We’re going to be traveling for a while.”

“Okay.”

The humans become delirious as they wait their turn to die. The two of you ignore their prayers and cries. As you have told yourself before, they are probably bandits. No one would miss them.

* * *

It is weeks before you find the Yoki that matches Clare’s. The girl runs out to meet the woman, chanting “Teresa” over and over as she does. You follow close behind. The way that Teresa’s face changes at the sight of Clare reminds you of your own happiness from a time long past. You wonder if that was how Isley looked when he heard news from you. You wonder if Isley ever cared as much.

Teresa’s eyes are quick to land on you. “I’m surprised,” she says. “I thought you had better control.”

You shrug. “You took too long.”

“I did. Sorry about that.” Teresa pats Clare on the head. As you walk closer to the woman, you can hear Clare crying against her. “What happened?”

“Some old comrades of yours,” you say. You reach over and poke Clare in the shoulder. “They thought they could kill Clare.”

Clare lets go of Teresa for a second, standing back and looking straight into Teresa’s eyes. “It was the two warriors from before! The ones who tried to kill you!”

Teresa’s brow furrows. “Hm. I was wondering where those two went.”

“You knew them,” you say. It was meant to be a question, but the way that Teresa reacted tells you too much about the situation. You wonder, briefly, if the two warriors had felt as you did; they had failed to save a comrade from becoming a monster, after all.

“Muscular Sophia and Storm Wind Noel,” Teresa says. “They’ve always been nuisances. I never did like them.”

“They’re dead now,” you say. “They wouldn’t leave.”

“Good. Two less people to worry about.”

You frown at Teresa’s statement. “Where were you?” you ask. “You said that you wouldn’t be long.”

“The Organization was trying to keep me away, probably from this crybaby.” She pats Clare on the head again, and Clare moves to fix her hair. “I told them I was leaving them for Clare before… everything. They probably thought they could get to me by getting her first.”

“It sounds like something they would do,” you say.

Teresa chuckles. “They seem to miss out on quite a bit, however.” Her eyes fall towards your holy sword. You had taken a belt from the drunk bandits that you ate just outside of Rabona, along with a set of clothing. They feel comfortable and worn, a vast difference from the clothes you bought yourself when you remained in hiding in your valley.

“Is there something wrong?” you ask. You look down at yourself, wondering if there is a spot of blood in the fabric.

“Your eyes,” Teresa says. “You seem happy.”

You almost repeat her words. Happy? Is this what happiness is? Being a monster left to roam the earth, devouring the people you once swore to protect?

Teresa shakes her head. “What would I know? I just think you look less lonely. Maybe having company helped.”

You look down at Clare. She has returned to clutching onto Teresa, as if the older woman would disappear if Clare even considered letting go. But she looks at you. It reminds you of the time where you were just washing clothing and wondering what your life had become, and Clare had asked about the hole in your body.

“Maybe,” you concede. “So, Teresa of the Faint Smile, do you have a plan of where to go now?”

“Not in particular. Somewhere to rest and eat.”

“Can we…” Clare trails off. Both you and Teresa look at her, waiting for her to say more. Clare, however, buries her face into Teresa’s side. “Why can’t we go back home?”

“Home?” you say. You stare at Clare, your thoughts racing and freezing at the same moment. You don’t think you have called a place “home” since your family was killed. The closest you had was Isley. Isley felt safe to be with. Isley felt like home.

Teresa sighs. “We can’t go back to the cabin, Clare. Now the Organization knows where it is. They’ll be attacking every week if we were so obvious.”

Clare clutches onto Teresa tighter. Her frame begins to tremble.

“You crybaby,” Teresa says fondly. “We can make a new home somewhere. They can’t always find us.”

“Anywhere that you want,” you add. “And a house as big as you can imagine.”

The girl’s grip on Teresa slacks, and you share a sigh of relief with Teresa.

“And we can still train?” Clare asks.

“Always,” you say. “Even when you surpass me.”

“I…” Clare flushes, drawing out laughter from you.

“Well then. Let’s at least find a place to settle first,” Teresa says. “We have the whole continent to choose from.”

* * *

In the end, the three of you decide not to build a physical house. The Organization has surely heard about you all by now. Settling before being chased off sounds unappealing. Even as the rumors settle, neither you nor Teresa want to trap yourselves to one location.

Instead the three of you explore the land. You forget, sometimes, that there is more to the continent that the town you lived in as a human, more than the Organization’s buildings in the otherwise deserted east, more than what you were assigned to as a warrior. It is easy to see that Teresa, too, had little concern for places beyond her assignments.

You both fall to Clare’s will. There are towns to see, forests to explore. You see the ocean for the first time in your life. It is so vast that you stare out into the horizon for what feels like hours.

Somehow, Teresa and Clare seem larger than it.

Every night, you tell Clare about the legends from your childhood. You tell stories about knights and gods, truth and justice, and about holy cities that are always out of reach.

One morning, you wake to the realization that Clare’s Yoki has surpassed yours. It is not a surprise; you knew the day was coming for some time. You knew that, no matter what, you would do nothing to stop Clare from reaching her potential.

“She’ll get stronger yet,” Teresa says. “Another Abyssal One.”

You hum in agreement. “The Organization was already in trouble when Isley awakened. I wonder how they are scrambling now.”

“They’ll likely do as they always do. Wait for a request.” Teresa looks at you, then towards some far horizon. “And how long will it be until you go north?”

“I don’t know,” you say. “Whenever I have the ability to kill Isley, I suppose.”

Teresa shakes her head, a smile of amusement on her lips. “Is it pride that says you have to be the one who kills him?”

“Not pride. I made a promise,” you say.

“You were a foolish warrior.”

Isley had called you a warm-hearted fool. He once said that it was a sign that you were a good person.

“I’m still foolish. I didn’t change too much from that.” You draw out your holy sword, the one that gave you your moniker and hope, and point it at the north. “Isley was everything to me. I won’t let his wishes be in vain.”

“Hmph. He probably didn’t know just how foolish you were.” Teresa draws your claymore, the one she has been carrying since those last days of you being only half monster. “It must be nice."

* * *

One day, before entering a town, you stop at the edge of the woods. Teresa and Clare both turn and wait for you.

“I don’t know what my awakened form looks like,” you say. It is true; you were so preoccupied with your lost memories that you have not stopped at some lake to see what exactly you have become. You haven’t transformed back into that form since Teresa has returned.

Teresa shakes her head. “I don’t have an idea. And you probably shouldn’t take your awakened form right now, unless we want to attract attention.”

You turn to Clare.

The girl smiles brightly. “You look like a knight from the stories. You’re bigger, and your hands look a little less like the armor, but I think you make a good knight.”

You and Teresa share a look. You are both smiling.

“We can start calling you ‘Holy Knight Raki’ if you want,” Teresa says teasingly.

“No,” you say. “’Holy Sword Raki’ is good enough.”

* * *

It is during one of the rare times that you are alone that you run into Isley.

You are in one of the last towns before you are in the northern region, where the snow only touches the area for part of the year. Teresa and Clare have gone to a town farther south. Clare dislikes the cold.

Even though his hair has gone from blond to silver and his eyes no longer have the unnatural shade, you still recognize him. It is more than just his physical appearance. It is in the way he carries himself, you think. Isley remains a man with history behind him. He remains a man with a burden.

When he sees you, he stares at you for a full minute. You almost laugh. You think better of it.

You instead wait for him to approach you. The nerves you have been expecting for years do not appear. Maybe they went away with the voices. Maybe they were only the remains of you being a bad omen.

“Raki,” Isley says. “I did not expect to see you.”

You don’t hold in your laughter this time; you don’t think you have ever heard Isley this uncomfortable in your life.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you either. Rumor had it that you actually like the cold climates,” you say. “I guess not all rumors can be true.”

“I taught you better than to trust such things.” The words are in the open before Isley can look horrified. It is odd to see the man so distraught over something you have accepted a long time ago. You can remember the day when he approached you as a trainee quite well. Back then, Isley had always been the one to comfort you.

You gesture towards the busy street. The weather is currently kind, and vendors have set up a market in the open as a way to celebrate. Children are running throughout it all. The smell of humans is tempting, but not overbearing. The hunger had been satiated hours ago, at the very least.

“Walk with me,” you say. “For old time’s sake.”

It takes you three steps before Isley is there, walking besides you. You offer him a smile. He looks anywhere but you.

You pass the town, the busy noises, cheers and conversation overpowering the undercurrent of sadness that runs with any group of humans. Children are weaving in and out of the crowd, playing some game that you think only they can understand. One bumps into you. His attention had been elsewhere. You can count the seconds it takes for him to realize what he has done, for him to bring up the courage to look you in the face.

By then, his companion is by his side. “I’m sorry, mister! Me and my brother were just playing –”

You laugh, and wave them away. “I was a boy once too,” you say. “Go. Enjoy this day.”

The two run off. Your eyes linger, following them throughout the street. You wonder if this is how you looked to others, when you were a human boy and only cared about playing games with your brother.

Isley remains silent throughout it all.

Soon the two of you are at the edge of the town. There are no humans nearby; their voices and the smell of their guts are the only things that can reach you here. You listen for a moment, trying to discern one word from another from the mass of noise. But they are too tangled to be understood. You close your eyes anyways, trying to keep all the sounds within your memory. The years alone have left more of a toll on you than you would like to admit.

“I dreamed about meeting you again,” you admit aloud. Isley remains behind you, out of sight and silent. Maybe you should be demanding that he talks. Maybe this is something you deserve after all of this time. “It’s taken me a long time to figure out what I should be saying to you.”

“You never held back before,” Isley says. His voice is low as he speaks. “Even when you thought the words were stupid, I would always…” He trails off.

You smile. “I will always appreciate what you’ve done for me, Isley. I would have died without your guidance.”

“That isn’t what you want to say to me, is it?”

“No,” you say. “I wanted to tell you how angry I am at you.”

The tone of your voice doesn’t change. Nevertheless, you can sense Isley tensing behind you. There is a movement in his Yoki. A ripple, but nothing more to indicate an attack.

You continue on. “I had no sense of purpose without you, Isley. I thought the rest of my life would be fighting Yoma and Awakened Beings by your side. Even if you had used me as a shield, I would have been happy.

“And then you awakened. Did you know that the Organization made me retire after that happened? They were scared that I would follow you. Riful said that I could rival Rigaldo.”

“There were… rumors.” Isley spits out the word as if it is poison. To the man, the monster that has retained his form, it probably is. “I thought about verifying them. However…”

“You were building an army?” you ask. You still won’t turn around, won’t look at the man who taught you how to survive. Having his Yoki so close, so definable, is enough. “There are rumors about that, too. I think you would be surprised how much gets around this continent.”

“Are you upset about this supposed army, then?” Isley asks.

“No.” When you had first heard the news months ago, tucked away in a corner of a small tavern for the night, you had laughed hard enough that you had knocked over your drink. Teresa had kicked you under the table. Her lips, however, had her infamous faint smile. “I expected it sooner, actually. I think the Organization did, too.”

“There is a time and place for everything.”

You consider his words. “The attacks on the Organization. You think that they’re vulnerable enough now to continue unhindered.”

“As much as I dislike rumors, there has been a considerable amount of evidence showing that they have been weakened. I would be remised if I did not take advantage of the opportunity.” Finally, Isley walks so he is within your peripheral vision. You watch, observing everything that you can. The other Awakened Being wears a thick winter cloak over his shoulders. It shows little wear; just another part of the human persona Isley takes to, you think. You wonder, not for the first time, that perhaps Isley was never a human.

“They’re as crafty as ever,” you say. Even now, the Organization hasn’t collapsed upon themselves. No one is quite sure how; Teresa alone decimated many of their forces.

“You could help me.”

Your surprise shows easily on your face. Isley turns to look at you. His eyes, a gray color that sometimes slip into the ice blue of his awakened form, show no emotion. No questions, no favor towards you. No love.

“You are incredibly strong, Raki. You would be my second in command. That witch in the west that Dauf has attached himself to could not stand up to us,” he says.

The expression on your face melts away. The dreams of seeing Isley again, the anger, return. But you keep it out of your voice. “I know.”

“Join forces with me, Raki.”

“No.”

Isley is startled, more startled than when he first spotted you in this town. He opens his mouth, but whatever words he is trying to form fall quiet. He closes his mouth.

“You have forgotten yourself,” you say. “I knew it the moment you awakened. I didn’t blame you back then, but now…”

There are many ways to finish the sentence. Many ways to call up memories of Clare, how she put aside her own hunger upon awakening to share with Teresa. Other ways to convey Teresa’s words, her retellings of how she ruined landscapes and lives to search the continent for a human girl the Organization had taken from her. Maybe there is even a way to convey the confusion you suffered in your own awakening and how, even when your memories were not with you, you knew that Clare was the most important thing there.

Instead, you say, “Now I know better. That’s why I still want to kill you, I think. Because you aren’t the Isley I remember.”

Isley shakes his head. “You are far from the ‘Holy Sword Raki’ I remember, either.”

“I’ve gone through a lot of things,” you say. “I wish you were there to see them.”

Isley stares at you, contemplating your words. You stare back for a while, as if you could follow his thoughts from his face alone. But then you turn away. You have to remind yourself that this Isley is not your Isley. You are not his student.

You wonder if Isley, the strong warrior who was Number 1 and feared the monsters his comrades were becoming, knew of this fate.

“Things would have been different,” Isley says at last. “Perhaps the Organization would have sent us both away. We could have taken out most of the monsters on this continent without having to report back to anyone.”

You recognize the tone of his voice. Nostalgic. Wishful. Everything that you despised in yourself for years, on days when the voices would just not leave.

“You left me, Isley,” you say at last. “You abandoned me to play king. Hell, you had _Rigaldo_ as your second in command. Did you ever think about what I was going to do without you there?”

“You retired. You could have lived peacefully –”

You laugh. “It wasn’t my choice, Isley. The Organization made me. And I listened, because I had nothing left. I told you that night; you gave me everything.”

“Is that what’s stopping you from joining me?” he asks. There is hesitation in his voice. But there is also his pride. Well earned, you think, as the Abyssal One of the North. As the first Number 1 of you all.

“No.” You offer him a smile. It comes to your lips easily. It makes you remember Clare’s bright one, Teresa’s faint one. You remember your parents’ smile, your brother’s, all of them human and easy and never once trapped with the undertow of nightmares. You remember your own, during those days as a trainee with Isley. “I found something else to live for.”

Isley closes his eyes. He nods once. “I see.”

You begin to walk away.

“You said you were going to kill me,” Isley calls out to you. “Have you changed your mind?”

“No.” You turn to look at Isley. For a moment, you think you can see the Number 1 of the male generation. The Silver King of the North. Isley, your mentor. “This may sound idiotic to you, but I intend to kill you one day. But not today. I promised someone that I would help her train.”

Puzzlement runs through Isley’s face. “Your new reason to live, I presume?”

“You would have liked her,” you say with a chuckle. “She’s a good student.”

“I see.” He frowns, and turns away. “Please don’t call yourself an idiot, Raki. You were never that.”

The words are out of your mouth before you realize. “A warm-hearted fool, then?”

Isley laughs. “Yes. Farewell, Holy Sword Raki.”

“Goodbye, Isley.”

It takes you two days to locate the other two. It is in another town, one that is blessed with warmer weather and a quieter setting. There is a fountain in the center of it. A statue of the twin goddesses sits within the pool of water. Clare balances herself on the stone border. Her footsteps are sloppy; she could balance herself if she wants to, but there is a game that plays out in her eyes as she runs on the narrow ledge.

Teresa looks at you. She does not bother with a greeting. “The other Yoki with you two days ago was Isley’s, wasn’t it?”

“I wasn’t expecting him,” you say. There is a smile on your face, the same one from the conversation with your former mentor. It has yet to fully leave you. “I never thought that I would be able to talk to him. It was…”

You pause. The word sits on your tongue, as if it is confused about its existence.

“It was nice,” you say. “I’ll miss him when he’s dead.”

Teresa sighs. Her eyes have not yet left Clare. “You told him you were planning to kill him, didn’t you? I’m surprised he didn’t try to kill you on the spot.”

“Things aren’t that simple,” you say. If they were, you would probably have asked Teresa to kill him herself. Isley, after all, is nothing compared to Teresa. “He’ll fight back when the time comes.”

“He would be a disgrace as a former Number 1 if he didn’t.” Teresa shakes her head. “Clare wants to go to the west to see the old castles. Is there some outstanding promise you made to Riful that we should know about?”

You laugh. “You would be doing her a service if you kill her. But no reason to seek her out.”

“Good. It would have been a pain otherwise.” She turns to you. There is a faint smile on her lips, a genuine one that is becoming less rare. “Shall we head out?”

“Yeah.” You turn your attention to the girl running around the fountain. “Clare!”

Clare looks at you, her face lighting up at her name. “Raki!” She launches herself off of the ledge, taking a few steps before barreling into you. You catch her. Laughter spills out of you.

For now, this is enough.

**Author's Note:**

> And it concludes. And here's where I'll admit the very first thing that inspired this story: the picture of Raki, after the time skip, carrying Priscilla on his shoulder. I wanted that to be a young Clare, because that would be the best. And here we are now.
> 
> Thank you for reading this story! I hope that you enjoyed it!
> 
> For those wondering, there _may_ be other stories in this universe one day. I stress heavily on the "may be" part. I am working on some other projects right now. I also haven't figured out what exactly would happen, because a lack of Priscilla actually has a ridiculous amount of implications.


End file.
